


Soul

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [113]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Closure, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Multi, Not A Fix-It, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 19:59:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18698179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Nothing surrounded her, just endless mist and orange. Carefully, she pulled her legs in, a pang going through her at the realization she was alone…she wasn’t supposed to be alone…she had been with…





	Soul

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing Natasha so sorry. Also this could be considered immediately before Rest.

   It was quiet.

   The air around her felt still and comforting. She was laying down and with a small groan she opened her eyes into a warm orange glow, surrounded by a thin mist. Instinctively, her heartbeat picked up its rhythm, as she sat up automatically, eyes darting around her surroundings, searching for a threat.

   There was none and would be none.

   Nothing surrounded her, just endless mist and orange. Carefully, she pulled her legs in, a pang going through her at the realization she was alone…she wasn’t supposed to be alone…she had been with…

   She gasped, hands coming up to grip her head harshly, desperately, as images and sensations flashed through her skull. Clint’s hand in hers, holding on tight enough to hurt, the feeling of dangling feet with nothing to grip, yanking away, air whistling past her ears, falling, _falling_.

   Tears pricked her eyes despite herself, though she was quick to wipe them away with trembling fingers, once more trying to focus on something, anything around her. If she was here, then they must have gotten the soul stone. Whatever ache she felt inside was diminished by the realization, by the rush of triumph.

   Taking a deep breath, Natasha stood, trying to ignore the sensation of helplessness this empty void brought. It was like a purgatory and while she believed she deserved much worse, the pending thought of this being her afterlife was nearly excruciating.

   “Natasha.”

   She spun on her heel, hand going to her side in search of a gun, only to find it empty. It wasn’t necessary, however, as she took in the lone figure sitting at a bench only a few feet away. The mist had cleared significantly, to show a tall man with a goatee and clad in a tunic and red Cloak.

   Just like that, everything in her relaxed a little, relief moving through her, “Strange right? Stephen Strange?”

   He didn’t seem surprised that she knew who he was, simply inclined his head toward the other side of the picnic table and she was quick to comply, questions and thoughts already spinning in her head.

   “Where are we?” she asked as soon as she sat.

   “Where ever you want.”

   “Cryptic,” she muttered.

   Stephen shook his head, a little smile quirking his lips and he raised his hand, spinning it in the air for a moment and just like that everything around them changed. Natasha gasped as she took in familiar surroundings, open fields, a barn, that tree with the target on it, a house just in the distance.

   Tears pricked her eyes as she took in the sun shining, the familiar feeling of home. Her eyes flickered closed against a wave of emotion and she swore she could hear laughter in the background.

   “Are they…?”

   “They are in the soul stone, but no they aren’t here. The others aren’t able to move as feely as I and the other sorcerers can.”

   Natasha took a steadying breath, forced herself to focus as she looked at him, taking in his sad expression. The question was on the tip of her tongue, but she was terrified to ask it, all the while knowing she needed to.

   Swallowing thickly, she tried to keep her voice steady, “so are we on the right track? Did I do the right thing?”

   A warm hand settled over hers, trembling and weak, but shocking in the way she hadn’t expected to feel physical contact for a long time, “you don’t need me to tell you it was the right thing.”

   “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

   Stephen’s eyes were kind, so much softer then how Tony had described this supposedly cold and harsh sorcerer. It made the words flow easier after that, “so we’re going to do it? We’re going to get them all back?”

   Stephen seemed to pause before nodding slowly, “there are still possibilities that could…adjust things but so far we’re headed in the right direction. I won’t be here much longer, none of those trapped will be.”

   Natasha nearly sobbed at those words, “I did it,” she whispered. “I finally…I did-”

   “Natasha,” she looked at him to find his expression earnest, nearly desperate. “You wiped the red from your ledger a long time ago.”

   She stilled at the familiar words, brows furrowing, “how did you-”

   He shook his head before she could finish, and she decided not to push. Silence descended between them, but she couldn’t let it last long. The man seated in front of her had all the answers she needed and the part of her that was so used to interrogations, the curiosity, the _need_ to know, clawed at her.

   “They’ll be alright?” she asked quietly. “Clint, Laura, all of them?”

   Her heart stuttered in her chest at the way his expression twisted for a moment, “Clint will be fine, Laura and the children too.”

   She bit her lip, trying for the dozenth time to hold onto her usually ironclad control, “and the others?”

   “I can’t assure anyone else just yet. There are still small things that could change the path…”

   “The one you saw though?” she insisted. “Everyone was ok then?”

   “Natasha,” he murmured.

   The way he said her name made her pause, the stormy expression, the grief tinged eyes. She could admit that there was a stint in the aftermath where she obsessed over this Doctor, they all did. His words had been obscure to say the least, but it had been tinged with hope, making them believe there was a chance. Then years passed and they believed that chance was certainly missed.

   She found herself watching him, “you’ve been waiting a long time, haven’t you?”

   He offered a tight smile, “I have, but I never doubted any of you.”

   Natasha smiled a bit, “why are you here?” quiet and unoffensive, honest curiosity. “I imagine you have a lot to prepare for.”

   He squeezed her hand softly, “I wanted to keep you company.”

   And _ah_ , just as she suspected, “you know everything about us, don’t you?

   He nodded slowly and she found herself gripping his hand in both of hers, “thank you.”

   He seemed startled, “for what?”

   “A chance.”

   Without him they wouldn’t have even gotten that far. She could see now, from the stories Tony recounted, exactly how this game had been playing out for nearly five years. Stephen had guided events from the moment he saw them and would do so the moment he left, and she knew intimately the suffering that came from that kind of responsibility.

   They were quiet again.

   Natasha didn’t release his hand and together they took in the sounds and smells of nature that was the Barton farm, her home. It was soothing under the beating sun, pleasant memories washing over her in waves as they waited.

   It was heavenly, she supposed, though she got the sense she wouldn’t be here long.

   “ _Oh_ ,” the sound came from Stephen, a little punched out gasp of air.

  His eyes were squeezed shut, head tilting, lip being bitten harshly, “what is it?”

   He opened them to look at her, eyes glassy, “I’m going soon and…you won’t be alone for long.”

   Natasha frowned just as their surroundings changed abruptly, the sounds of a gentle swell of water reaching her, green grass and trees framing the porch of a lakehouse they now sat on. Pain reverberated through her, tears slipping past her iron control, “no,” she murmured.

   “I’m sorry, it’s the only way.”

   Natasha forced several deep breaths, tried to mean the words, “I know.”

   His hand began to slip from hers and she found herself tightening her grip briefly, “just him?”

   Stephen gave a short nod, “if everything goes as it should.”

   She let him go, wiping at her tears, “right, you better get to it then.”

   He stood swiftly and Natasha just needed to say one more thing, “I’m sorry for what you had to go through to get us here. We weren’t the only ones to make a sacrifice.”

   He faded before her eyes and Natasha wished she could have offered more. He was a good man and with his words echoing in her head, the way he had seen all of her past and believed she was worthy of this peace, made it all worth every step it took to get there.

   She stood and leaned against the railing, staring out at the water, ready to greet an old friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Currently have four more planned for this series. 
> 
> Also for those who are confused. I'm keeping these as part of A Thousand Futures of Me and You because I am shamelessly working under the assumption that Stephen felt a connection or love (Tony) to all the Avengers after gazing into the Time Stone.


End file.
